The Viscount now believed the hour of his vengeance was at hand, when, without the slightest exertion, he might disturb not only St. Eval’s peace, but that of Caroline.

If St. Eval had but heard the few words he said to her, jealousy would have been instantly banished, but for that he was not sufficiently near; he could only mark the earnest and insinuating manner which the Viscount knew so well how to assume, and notice her confusion, and the shade of melancholy expressed on her features, which was in fact occasioned by Lord St. Eval’s sudden desertion, and her annoyance at the cause.  His quick imagination attributed all to the effect of Lord Alphingham’s tender words.  The Viscount was well known, to him, and near the end of the evening approached and remained in conversation by his side, spite of the haughty reserve maintained by the young Earl, which said so plainly, “your presence is unwelcome,” that it would speedily have dismissed any one less determined; but Lord Alphingham spoke admiringly and enthusiastically of Caroline.  Lord St. Eval listened, as if fascinated by the very torture he endured.  They were quite alone, and after a few such observations, the Viscount lowered his voice to a confidential tone, and said, triumphantly—­

“Will you envy me, St. Eval, if I confess that I, more than any other man, am privileged to speak in Miss Hamilton’s praise, having once had the honour of being her accepted lover, and had not cruel parents interfered, might now have claimed that lovely creature as my own? but still I do not despair, for the affections of a being so superior once given to me, as they have been, I am convinced they will never be another’s.  I am treating you as a friend, St. Eval, you will not betray me?”

“You may trust me, sir,” replied the young Earl, coldly.  “Your confidence has been given unasked, but you need not fear its betrayal.”

“Thank you, my kind friend;” and the wily villain continued his deceiving tale, with an eloquence we will not trouble ourselves to repeat.  It is enough to know its effect on St. Eval was to turn him from the room, his sensitive feelings wrought almost to madness by malignant bitterness.  Lord Alphingham looked after him, and then turned his glance on Caroline, and an acute physiognomist might easily have read his inward thoughts—­“My vengeance is complete.”

Alphingham had more than once mentioned the name of the Duchess of Rothbury; but in such a manner, that though it sounded well enough in his tale, yet when afterwards recalled by the young Earl, he could not understand in what position she stood towards them.  Lord Alphingham knew well her Grace’s character; he wished St. Eval to seek her, for he felt assured what she would say would confirm his tale, and render the barrier between him and Caroline more impassable.  His plan succeeded admirably:  St. Eval gallopped off to Airslie early the next morning.  The Duchess welcomed him with the greatest cordiality, for he was